5 or 6 years
by AtlasMonster
Summary: Originally a one-shot that has now spun off into a full blown shenanigan: Mr & Mrs Smith AU - Myka and Helena have been married for 5 or 6 years, but their mundane marriage is about to get shaken up, Bering & Wells style...
1. Therapy

**So, mostly because I really wanted to write the final scene about the two of them in therapy being asked 'the sex question' again (what no, I haven't already written it, I don't know what you're talking about…) I am going to go with this whole thing. **

**It's happening fast, mostly because I am avoiding revising for some super important exams, and also because as season 5 approaches, I find myself descending into deeper and deeper denial. **

**Note: They are angstily, horribly **_**not **_**all over each other at the start, don't worry, things will get better and snarkier. Also note that this is an AU where there's no stigma attached to being gay, gay marriage, gay **_**anything **_**and literally everything is peachy in terms of equality, etc. It's a world that I hope we get to one day. Enough of my emotional bull, here's the official chapter 1. **

The therapist's room was dimly lit. _Dimly lit and uncomfortably furnished._ Myka thought, as she shifted her position in the arm chair, crossing and uncrossing her long legs. Beside her sat Helena. Her wife had a detached expression on her face. The kind of expression that suggested the wearer was diverting far less than half her brain power to the task at hand. Myka momentarily wondered what Helena was actually concentrating on, before dismissing the thought. _Does it matter?_

The therapist rattled on, welcoming them, introducing himself, explaining the format. Myka herself was only half listening. In her head she was mapping out her next operation. Dates, times, targets. She had a list running in her mind, an endless list of things to get done, both in her professional life, and her personal life. _The latter of which is apparently suffering_.

She tuned back in on the session when Helena's voice cut through her stream of thoughts.

"I'll start," Helena had said.

Despite her indifference towards the whole situation, Helena still spoke with a sense of polite concern. Above all Myka noted, in that short opening phrase, her voice managed to convey her own unwavering self-confidence. Something that, when they had first met, Myka had found annoying but also undeniably charming. She still did, she realised.

"Let me say, we don't really need to be here." Helena continued. "See, we've been married 5 years."

"6," Myka corrected, feeling it more appropriate to stretch her fingers in response, instead of rolling her eyes.

"5 or 6 years," Helena carried on, unfazed. "And this is just like a routine check-up for us. A chance to poke around the engine, maybe change the oil, replace a seal or two."

This time Myka did roll her eyes. _Always with the mechanical references._

"Very well," the therapist said. "Let's pop the hood." He turned the page of his notebook. "We'll start simple. So, on a scale of 1 to 10, how happy are you as a couple?"

"8," Myka replied quickly.

"With 10 being unequivocally happy, and 1 being downright miserable?" Helena asked, feigning interest again.

"Just respond instinctively," said the therapist.

"Alright," Helena turned to Myka for the first time in the session. "Ready?"

"Ready," Myka replied, not looking back at her wife.

"8," They said simultaneously.

The therapist nodded at them. Myka began to wonder how long they would be there.

"How often do you have sex?"

There was a pause, as the two of them considered the question. Helena opened her mouth to respond, but then thought twice. Her usual quick snarky remark would probably not suffice.

"I don't understand the question," Myka said.

"Likewise," Helena found it easier to agree. "Is this to be measured from 1 to 10 again?"

"Is 1 very little, or is 1 nothing, because you know, technically speaking, 0 would be nothing," Myka found hands moving to emphasise her point.

"That's right," Helena agreed. "And if we don't know what 1 is, how can we gauge what is 10?" She chuckled.

"Because, 10 would be," Myka paused, unsure of where she was going with this. "Well, you know, constant…"

"Unrelenting," Helena smiled, her mind wandering slightly.

"Not stopping for…" Myka looked over at her wife. A flashback to the first few months they were together crossed her mind.

"Any food, or _anything_ for that matter," Helena finished her sentence, holding her wife's gaze momentarily.

Myka quickly turned her head back, not wanting her face to give away the memory that was playing out. It was too late though, Helena had seen her wife's fleeting expression, and she too found herself remembering the rather intense encounters the two of them had enjoyed at the start of their affair. Helena couldn't help but broaden her smile at the thought. Myka saw what her wife was doing out of the corner of her eye, and tried desperately to ignore her.

"It's not a 1 to 10 scenario," the therapist said and Myka was grateful for the interjection. "It's a basic question, how often do you have sex?"

Silence.

"How about this week?"

Pause.

"Including the weekend?" Helena asked.

"Sure."

More silence.

Eventually, it was the therapist who nodded. "Okay, well, that speaks for itself."

Myka shifted uncomfortably, Helena only ran one hand through her hair before settling again.

"Why don't you describe how you first met?"

"It was in Colombia," Myka relaxed.

"_Bogotá_," Helena added. "5 years ago."

Myka breathed out in mild annoyance. "6." She corrected.

"Right," Helena nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching. "5 or 6 years ago."


	2. Bogotá, Colombia

_**A/N – Hello all. Firstly, thanks for the positive feedback so far. Here is the next instalment. Warning - I cannot speak Spanish, so I used google. They are only short phrases, so hopefully it's all good – but do let me know if it's wrong. Anyway, not much to say – here's chapter 2.**_

_**Bogotá, Colombia. 5 or 6 years ago…**_

Myka leant against the counter in the hotel foyer. Colombia was beautiful and vibrant, but it was also hot and tiring, and she was ready to go home. The assistant behind the desk returned with her dry cleaning, and she thanked him in Spanish.

As she turned to leave, her ears picked up a commotion outside, then a dozen armed officers came spilling into the lobby.

"Hey," She called back the assistant. "Qué pasó?" _What happened?_

"Somebody shot that millionaire, the one staying down town," the man replied in a quiet voice, looking down as he shuffled papers on his desk. "Police are looking for tourists travelling alone."

Myka nodded and turned back around, her hand reaching slowly behind for her gun.

One of the policeman scanning the area noticed her, and began to make his way over.

"Estás sola, señora?" _Are you alone, ma'am?_

Myka tensed and didn't answer.

"Estás sola?" The officer asked again louder, this time reaching for the gun in his holster. Before Myka could reply, the doors to the hotel flung open again. A woman walked in, followed by more officers.

"Señora, pasaporte?" _Passport?_ They were asking her.

Myka should have been counting her exits, planning the escape route with minimal casualties, but instead she found herself staring. Staring rather intently at the beautiful woman stood across the reception. She was a tourist, of that much Myka felt sure. She had dark glossy hair that seemed to have been made for this hot yellow light to fall on. It was shiny and perfectly placed about her shoulders. Her eyes were dark to match, they were alive though, expressing the woman's distaste at being harassed. She had soft pale skin, not the kind suited to this sort of heat, although she did not appear to be flustered at all. In fact, she too was staring. Staring straight back at Myka, with a discerning look on her face.

One of the officers that had followed the lady in was shouting now, grabbing hold of and shaking the woman's arm, something that a minute ago would not have bothered Myka, but now it did. She instantly started plotting this man's demise.

"Estás sola? Estás sola?" The officer was asking, gun in one hand.

"No," the woman spoke, not breaking Myka's gaze. The man shook her again.

"Hey, she's with me," Myka didn't realise it was her that had spoken until she was halfway across the floor, leaving her gun hidden under her clothes. She reached the two of them, slid her arm around the woman's waist, and pulled her away from the policeman. "She's with me." Myka repeated.

Ignoring the dirty look on the officer's face, she led the woman by the hand out of the foyer and up the stairs, without looking back. She unlocked her door, and pulled them both inside. Only then did she let go of the stranger standing next to her.

The two of them leant back against the shut door. The voices of agitated policemen echoed up and through the old walls.

"Helena," the woman said after a second, a strange smile on her face.

"Myka," came the reply.

"Nice to meet you," Helena said, extending her hand.

Myka took it gently, unable to stop a smile breaking out on her own face. This was an outcome she had not predicted.

* * *

They were sat outside a small café in town. The sun had disappeared hours ago, and Myka couldn't decide whether she was happy about it or not, because in the new hazy candle light, Helena's hair looked incredible in an altogether different way. There had barely been a second since they had met in which Myka had not been staring. Staring at Helena's hair, or the shape of her lips. Staring at the way her eyes flickered from person to person, always to settle back on Myka. Staring at the way her fingers seemed to find comfort in a touch at the base of her neck. She was drinking this woman in and wanted to do so for the rest of her life.

"To dodging bullets," Helena was saying, raising her glass to Myka's.

"To dodging bullets," Myka agreed, downing her drink.

Helena was quiet for a moment. Enjoying the soft music and buzz of alcohol in her stomach. Enjoying the _nearness_ of her new acquaintance, which was something Myka had noticed. Helena seemed to have no concept of personal space. She had stood close, sat closer, and then always seemed to be leaning in, with this lingering look on her face, as though she were challenging Myka to pull back, _daring_ her.

At first, Myka had been confounded by this behaviour, ruffled almost. But inevitably, (and certainly it did not take long) she found herself responding. She didn't flinch as Helena moved millimetre by millimetre closer to her until she could feel the warmth radiating off the woman's bare skin. Helena was so close now that Myka could smell her scent, not a perfume Myka thought, but rather her natural aroma which seemed to disorient her feelings. She didn't look away as Helena's gaze unashamedly wandered over her body, to finish on her lips before catching her eyes again. She found her fingertips would subconsciously trace up and down Helena's skin whenever and wherever she could, the need to caress this woman irrefutable.

So, when Helena tilted her head and murmured into Myka's ear, "Dance with me." Myka could not say no. _Not that it was a question. _Myka thought. Helena commanded with each and every syllable, and Myka was hopeless to resist.

The night passed in a blur. Myka was swept around in Helena's arms, laughing, smiling, breathless. Helena was not only beautiful, she was intelligent too, scarily so. She would quote lines from Carroll, whisper about the intricate inner workings of a quartz watch before telling Myka that her laugh would have distracted great rulers of kingdoms long forgotten had she graced their lives in history.

After some time, Myka realised she could hear a deep rumble of thunder underneath the music. The impressive heat of the day called for a storm coming in for the night, clouds gathering to drench the city in a tropical downfall. Helena seemed unconcerned, and when the rain hit, she simply led Myka to the shelter of an archway across the street. Then, she turned and with a disarmingly honest look in her eyes, kissed Myka, lips cold and laced with the taste of rum. Myka kissed back, hands pulling at Helena's waist to fasten their bodies together. She had to physically stop herself from groaning in disappointment when Helena pulled away.

"Let's go," Helena hummed.

Myka could only nod before Helena slipped their fingers together and dragged her, none too patiently, back to the hotel.

They were soaked through when they reached the room. Myka took her time undressing the woman in her bed, surrendering to her own selfish desire to touch every inch of Helena's body, receiving small gasps in acknowledgement of her labours. _Although, the word 'labours' made it sound like a chore. _Myka thought._ This most certainly was not._

Free of her clothes, and shivering slightly in as the cool air breezed over her skin, Helena pulled Myka down and rolled over to straddle her, a hungry and determined look on her face as she began to return the favour. Myka willingly relinquished control, more than content to resume staring at the beauty on top of her. She wondered what this whole evening really meant to each of them, as Helena deftly unbuttoned her silk blouse. That thought was swiftly forgotten as a slim finger teasingly trailed down from her ear, over her breasts, pausing to loop around the smooth skin of her stomach, before disappearing further down her body. Myka drew in a breath, clenching her hands and gasping at the first of many touches that would leave her begging for more. There began a long, blissful, _unrelenting_ night.


	3. Breakfast

**A/N – Hello, here to deliver the short-ish chapter 3 of this AU. Just a couple of things, really – more characters are coming over the next few chapters, they won't have a major part to play, but the Mrs & Mrs ****_do_**** need some work buddies, right? **

**Humdinger – yes, the characters fit quite nicely, although sometimes I will switch a scene or two to a different character to suit my needs, hopefully it'll work out okay.**

**Nighthawk88 – yes, never fear, they will most definitely be trying to kill each other in the near future!**

**As always, thanks for the feedback/views etc. enjoy part 3. **

Helena woke the next morning with a pleasant ache occupying every muscle in her body, and it took her a moment to remember why. Then with a small, wry smile on her face, she rolled over to study the woman lying next to her. Myka was asleep on her front, the white bed sheets only covering the bottom half of her body. Helena couldn't resist running her hands over the bare shoulder blades and down the spine of her lover. _Where had this woman come from? _Helena couldn't remember the last time her heart had fluttered in such an uncontrollable manner as her had when she had seen Myka in the hotel. She replayed the scene in her mind with uncharacteristic giddy happiness. She had been rescued. _Rescued_. Nobody had rescued Helena in years. In her line of business, you had to have the highest level of self-proficiency, or you would get yourself killed. Helena was the best at what she did, she knew how to handle herself. So when this woman had stormed across the lobby and slid her hand around her waist, tugging her firmly away from her would-be attacker, Helena had been dumbstruck. Afterwards, she should have been on a plane back to the US, but instead she had stayed, mesmerised by this American woman and her intelligent green eyes.

They had spent the whole afternoon just talking, having a conversation that didn't seem to have a start nor end. They had talked about everything, anything and nothing. She felt like she knew the woman beside her, despite her being a complete stranger. She knew the way her mouth quirked, the way her hands talked, the way her eyebrows drew together in a frown.

Helena placed a kiss on the sleeping Myka's forehead. She didn't want to leave her side, but she was hungry after their rather spirited evening together, and she realised, she was in desperate need of tea. _Tea. _Helena mused as she slipped out from between the sheets and pulled on yesterday's dried clothes. _Your cover is supposed to be a travel-loving American tourist, and you cannot function without a cup of English tea. _Helena almost chuckled out loud at the thought of her cover being blown due to her desire for the hot beverage. She walked quietly to the bathroom, splashed some water on her face, and then allowed herself one last glance at Myka before she left the room in search of breakfast. She had some thinking to do.

* * *

Myka woke in a daze. The balcony doors were wide open, the thin veil curtains bellowing in with the morning breeze. All traces of the storm had gone, and the sun was oozing into the room, with a light warmth and yellow tinge. She sighed, smiling to herself, and it took her a moment to realise she was alone in an empty bed. Just like that, all the glorious feelings of the night before left her heart in an instant. _A one night stand. _She shook her head, running a hand through her untamed curls, trying to curb the pain that was quickly rising in her chest. _This one is going to hurt._ She propped herself up on one elbow, pulling the sheets up and around her midriff, and tried to sort her muddled thoughts. _Why did it hurt? It was just a night of fun. It would never have gone anywhere._

She was still searching for an answer when the door to her room creaked open. Myka looked over, her hand sliding down the side of the bed for the knife she had hidden upon arriving. She was prepared to throw when to her surprise, Helena walked in, a tray in her hands. In the light of the new day, Helena was just as breath-taking. The same butterflies that had controlled Myka the night before, returned with a vengeance. A strange content glow settled in her stomach and she tried to hide her gladness at her lover's return.

"Hello, you." Helena murmured, herself caught at the sight of Myka draped the bed sheets, looking rather fervent upon her entrance. "Did you sleep well? You seem flustered."

Myka was quick to look away. "You were up early," she said, her voice betraying her true meaning.

Helena noticed the inclination in Myka's voice. "Only for breakfast," she reassured, putting the tray down on the bedside table. "A recent encounter with a beautiful woman may have me reduced to hopeless romantic gestures," Helena admitted, as Myka's eyes caught sight of the freshly plucked flower lying alongside the toast and coffee Helena had brought back. "I had rather hoped I'd be back before you woke. At least then I could have blamed my poor attempt at breakfast-in-bed on an unsuspecting room servant."

Myka relaxed, her laugh was soft. "No, thank you, it looks delicious."

"So kind of you," Helena replied. "For all the trouble I went to, it had better be delicious."

Myka took a bite of the toast. She hadn't realised, but she was ravenous. "How can I ever repay you for your service," Myka asked, lips twitching into a smile.

"Oh, I can think of a way." Helena said, moving so close to Myka that she was forced back down onto the bed. "You didn't really think I'd leave this morning without saying goodbye?"

"Well, I…" Myka didn't get to finish her sentence before Helena's lips found her neck.

"Because," Helena continued, well aware of the immobilising effects of her kisses. "Last night was…"

"Incredible," breathed Myka.

"Yes," Helena chuckled into her skin. "Quite so, and perhaps I am just being _greedy_," more kisses scattered across Myka's body. "_Rapacious_ even, but I'd love to continue this endeavour indefinitely, if you would allow it." Helena stopped her advances to look back up at her companion, her face all of a sudden serious.

Myka felt her whole body buzz in response. She couldn't help the restless grin that emerged on her face. "Yes," she said, pulling Helena back up until they were face to face. "Yes, please."


	4. 6 Weeks Later

**A/N – Say hey to Pete & Claudia. Heads up, there will **_**eventually**_** be a plot line, fleshing out the start has taken longer than expected, sorry. I've switched their professions around, Helena seemed to suit the computer/technology thing better, especially with Claudia as her partner in crime. Myka's cover profession is not mentioned, but I'll make it clear later on if need be.**

_**6 weeks later…**_

"How do you do that?" Myka couldn't keep the awe out of her voice.

"Do what?" Helena asked innocently.

"You know exactly what. Manage to be charming and witty and not come across as sarcastic and annoying."

_It's because I'm actually British_. Helena thought amused at first, then she frowned. Lying was an integral part of her profession, and Helena liked it. She could be whoever she wanted, manipulate people to do her bidding, but lying to Myka _hurt._ "You can take lessons, you know?" She eventually replied, plastering a smile on her face.

"Oh really? Am I not witty enough for you, Helena? Not charming enough?" They were walking along the busy streets in the centre of town, a festival had arrived and was in full swing that weekend. That didn't stop Myka from boldly allowing her fingers to wander across Helena's body, as she turned and placed a fiery kiss against Helena's neck.

"Darling," Helena exhaled.

"Darling this, daring that. Stop talking for a moment, would you?" Myka usually shied away from public displays of affection, but Helena had been teasing and smirking all day. Payback was long overdue.

Helena needed to divert Myka's affections, because here in the middle of a busy street was not the best place to be painfully aroused. A stall caught her attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, oh, ladies and _ladies,_" The man corrected. "Come and have a go, Sharp Shooters is a challenge for even the best gunners in the state!"

"Myka," Helena nudged her lover. "Let's have a go,"

Myka sighed. "Fine, but if I win, I get to do whatever I want with you later," she murmured into Helena's ear.

Helena smirked. "And if I win?"

"I'll be all yours," Myka said seductively under her breath.

"Do you know how to hold it, miss?" The stall manager was asking.

"Like this?" Myka picked up the gun.

"That's right, hold it good and tight now, it'll kick back a slight."

Helena watched Myka as she took a stance with the rifle tucked under her arm. _Good Lord she looked hot with a gun._

Aiming carefully at the moving targets, Myka began to shoot, she hit just over half, throwing the rest wide on purpose. She laughed. "Not bad."

Helena just smirked. The thought of Myka doing her exact bidding for the whole evening was enough to make her want to win. _Screw my cover. _She thought mischievously.

Helena picked up her rifle in one smooth action, and fired away. She hit all but the last two targets, firing her shots in rapid succession. Myka had been paying little attention, more occupied in how attracted she was to Helena with a gun, until she realised where the shots were being placed. With a small frown, she looked from Helena to the targets. She dismissed her thoughts as quickly as they had arrived. _Relax. You're not at work._

Helena had turned to face her, a smug smile on her face. "Beginners luck," she teased. "And that means you're, ah what did you say? 'All mine' later?"

"Here you go miss, a teddy for your prize."

Myka raised an eyebrow as Helena passed over the stuffed toy to her. "I want to go again,"

"The lady wants to go again!" The stall manager exclaimed.

Myka had already picked up the rifle before Helena had paid the man. This time, she shot true, her bullets slamming into the moving targets one after the next.

Helena watched in surprise. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"Beginners luck," Myka said, a playful smile on her lips. "And I believe that this means, _you _are _mine."_

_**Nielson HQ, somewhere in New York.**_

Pete walked with his usual confident step as he made his way down to the training deck in HQ. He had a good vibe in his body. _Today was going to be fun_. Somewhere between breakfast and the office doors, he had decided to confront Myka about her new relationship. Pete had met Helena a couple of times, the woman was smoking hot, smart and charming. Since they had been together, Myka had been glowing, and Pete was ready to call her out on it.

He opened the doors to find Myka already dressed for a workout. There had been a lull in missions lately, and with Helena away on business for a couple of days, Myka was restless.

"So, have we got the old Mykes back?" Pete said as he wandered in, an empty paper bag scrunched up in his hand, the tell-tale sign of his breakfast, along with the crumbs on his shirt.

"What are you on about, Pete?" Myka scowled. "I'm here. On time, I might add, unlike some people." She was warming up, her fencing foil gripped lightly in one hand.

"Hey, you know how I _have_ to stop on Madison Street to get a coffee one of those amazing pastries they do, y'know the ones with that raspberry filling and the fluffy crust and…"

"Pete!"

"What? Just thinking about them is making me hungry." Pete rubbed his belly and started thinking about where they could go for lunch.

"You sure it's not the cute coffee girl that has you going back there every morning?" Myka smirked, she'd seen his hopeless flirting with the girl, Kelly.

"What? No," Pete pulled a face. "I can't stand her. She's bossy and mean and _always_ telling me I need to lay off the cream puffs." He shook his head. "Besides, stop changing the subject. I want to know, have we got the focused, organised, kinda uptight Mykes back?"

Myka threw a stab at his shoulder and Pete jumped backwards. "What are you on about, unless this is just you insulting me for no reason?" She huffed.

"Well I guess that answers the question." He said, stepping further back to avoid any more attacks. "I just figured, because Helena is away for a few days, maybe that glow of yours would disappear."

Myka blushed. "I don't have a glow!"

"You totally do,"

"Do not!"

"Whatever," Pete put his hands up to surrender as Myka held her foil under his chin. "What does she do, anyway?"

Myka eyed him suspiciously, not trusting Pete to have let her off that easily. "She works downtown, that big server company, with all sorts of technology and engineering."

"Sweet!" Pete breathed. "So she's like Batman with computers?"

"Something like that," Myka shook her head. "She travels as much as I do, with call outs and such. It's pretty perfect." Myka smiled.

Pete watched his best friend as she turned to mush in front of him. He rolled his eyes, they needed to get the workout started. "Hey do we have to fence today? When was the last time anyone was assassinated with a sword? It's all about the guns baby," Pete pulled his favourite hand gun out from its holster. "Whatchaa!" He spun about, imaginarily picking off the other agents in the room.

"Pete!" A cross voice called out across the room. "Would you kindly stop waving the gun around?"

Pete stood still, caught in the act. "Ah, hey Artie! I'm just showing Mykes how guns are the obvious weapon of choice, not these stick swords, you know?"

"Stick swords? Pete it's called a foil." Myka sighed. "Besides, you just don't want to fence because you never win."

"Not fair," Pete complained. "The reason I don't win is because there are too many stupid rules. Why can't I just stick you with the pointy end and you die?"

"The pointy end? I…" Myka was interrupted by Artie holding his hands up.

"Enough. Myka I need you in my office in 5. We have a matter to deal with. Pete? Make yourself useful or hit target practice, just stop waving that hunk of metal about."

As Artie disappeared around the corner, Pete turned back to Myka.

"We're not done with this conversation."

"What conversation?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Mykes, we need to talk about Helena."

Myka smiled at the mention of her name.

"See, that there is what I'm talking about," Pete pointed at her smile. Then he gasped, eyes wide as he realised his vibes may have meant something else entirely. "Do you love her?"

"What?"

"You heard me, are you in love with Helena G. Wells?"

Myka was bright red. She didn't want to talk to Pete about this, at least not right now. She had no idea what she was feeling. All she knew, was that Helena made her so nervous she felt like her heart would give out whenever she was around. "Pete, it's barely been 6 weeks since I met her."

"6 weeks shweeks, who cares how long. You're dodging the question, plus you're all touchy because you haven't had your hot sexy lesbian scissoring in over 24 hours."

"Pete!"

"When does she get back? Until then I am going to lay low."

"I am going to kill you." Was all Myka could get out.

"Hah! You totally love her! Look at your cheeks, I've never seen you blush this much, not even when you had to report to Artie about that hockey guy you bumped off and it involved some, let's just say,_ saucy_ clandestine activities."

"Pete!" This time Myka punched him, hard.

"Myka and Helena sitting in a tree…" Pete sang as he retreated hastily out of the room. He stopped in the doorway though, his annoyingly adorable face was sincere. "I'm happy for you Mykes, you know that right?"

Myka shook her head, despite her annoyance. "I'll see you at lunch."

"Yahoo! I knew it! You guys will have the hottest babies _ever._" He ducked as Myka threw a towel at his head, and quickly left the room.

Myka stood, and stilled herself, trying to compose her mind. _I love her._ The admission was not as surprising as it should have been. There was something about Helena that just _clicked_. With a deep sigh, she made her way over to Artie's office. Mission, objectives. She could deal with her feelings later.

_**Twins Corporation Offices, Chicago.**_

"So, Miss Donovan, are you going to tell me what has you all worked up, or do we have to drag out this small talk which you know I detest?"

Claudia had her qualms about talking to her partner about her personal life. There was a general rule in their business: you didn't ask, you didn't pry. But H.G was the closest thing Claudia had to family, and Helena was acting off.

"Maybe we should talk about this, y'know, after you've knocked off this guy." She was guiding H.G through the dark halls of Twins Corp. offices. Their mark was a big shot lawyer, working late, as he did every Tuesday evening. Helena was to pay him a visit, with regards from their employer.

"Claudia," Helena began.

"Watch your 6," Claudia muttered into her mouth piece. Helena swiftly moved around the corner and out of sight as the evening janitor emerged on the 16th floor.

The squeaking wheels of his trolley filled Claudia's earpiece. Everything was static for a minute.

"All clear," Claudia said, as the worker entered one of the conference rooms further down the hall. She'd be flitting around the edges of the 'conversation' before chickening out and talking about the weather. Helena hated talking about the weather.

"What's on your mind, Claudia?" Helena had barely managed to ask before the young technical genius blurted out.

"How's Myka?"

Helena frowned. "You want to talk about Myka?"

"Well, I was just wondering, because since you've been back from Colombia, things have been different, you're a bit different."

"Different?" H.G thought it best to let Claudia speak her mind before she rebutted.

"It is different, right? She's not like the others you, uh, spend _time_ with. I mean, usually you move on after one night,"

"Claudia!"

"What? It's true! Sometimes it's not even a whole night…"

"Claudia, are you going somewhere with this?" Helena asked, exasperated.

"I'm just saying, I think you've got it bad."

Helena chuckled at the comment, her low, characteristic laugh made Claudia relax slightly. _Got it bad. Interesting phrase. _Helena thought, musing over the choice of words. _Entirely accurate, though. _

Claudia looked at her monitors to see that Helena had paused outside the mark's office, her head leant back against the wall. They were both silent for a moment.

"I'm going to ask her to marry me." Helena said, softly, but with every ounce of conviction.

Claudia's fingers stilled on the laptop keyboard. She focused all her attention on HG. "You're what!?" She held her earpiece against her ear to make sure she had heard correctly.

"I'm going to ask her to marry me." Helena said again, feeling very calm about the whole thing. In fact, it was a relief to tell somebody.

Claudia looked on her monitors and watched H.G in the black and white CCTV stream she had hooked to her screens. Helena's face was half hidden in the shadows, but she was smiling. A spaced-out, wide-eyed, love-sick smile that didn't even come close to the smile she wore when working on her inventions, and that was saying something.

"H.G are you sure? I mean, granted I've never seen you this gooey eyed, like, ever," Helena scowled at that. "But you've only known this woman for a few weeks, you don't think this is moving a little too fast? You do have kinda an _impulsive _nature," Claudia said, her voice reluctant.

"I love her," came the simple, honest reply.

"You love her." Claudia repeated. Despite her hesitance about the whole situation, Claudia found herself grinning. "The Great Helena G. Wells has fallen in love?"

"Yes," Helena didn't know whether to believe it herself."And it may surprise you to find out that I have thought this through. It's been the _only_ thing I've been thinking about. But, Claudia, Myka… she's smart, beautiful, sexy, complicated, and God that hair…"

"Alright, alright. I've heard enough, Casanova." Claudia rolled her eyes. "Finish the job, then we can talk about wedding bells."


	5. Routine

**A/N – (here's a long-ass message, feel free to skip it…) First, a massive thanks for all the views/reviews/follows etc. they really make my day. Second, this chapter is going to jump about a bit, with italics all over the place, so I hope it all makes sense as you read. I needed to explain from both sides where their marriage was 'at'. Third, updates are going to get further apart because I suck in real life, and also because I'm stupidly writing about 4 different things at once, so bear with me.**

**To the guest reviewer who mentioned Angelina, personally she's not my type, but the film still rocks, and I ****_can_**** appreciate her hotness. Thank you for the kind words, too.**

**Humdinger – (hey again) I can't blame the fans/writers for the love of the B&W hair. It's kind of incredible. I actually love Myka with straight hair as well as her usual adored curls. As for Mrs F, I was thinking of having her with H.G and Claudia, although we will see. More on that later… Finally, I really want to work Steve into it too, because I love Jinks and I need more of him in my life. Also Leena. Also so many other characters. Therefore, I may add more to the plot to include them all blah blah blah. I'll stop talking now. **

**_Present Day, The Suburbs._**

Myka ran fast. Her feet skimming in light rhythmic steps over the concrete footpath she was jogging down. She did her usual route, looping around in a large arc through the back allies of suburbia, around the park, and finally down the main street. It was 6am, the rest of the neighbourhood was asleep. For Myka, it was the one time in the day where she could clear her mind. Running made her feel liberated, free.

It wasn't as though work was stressful. She was organised, methodical. Things rarely went wrong, and if they did, she had a contingency plan. She always got her mark. _Not in real life, though. Or should I call it my cover life? _When she ran, it was mostly her personal life she thought about, mostly Helena_. Smart, obnoxious, smug, gorgeous, infuriating Helena._

She reached her house, and slowed to a walk as she came up the drive. All the lights were off. Helena no doubt was in bed, where Myka had left her 45 minutes ago. In the first few months of their marriage, Myka would come home, creeping through the house so as not to disturb her lover. Helena would wake though, as Myka tiptoed through their room to the shower. Her usually perfect hair would be messed from their evening together, her eyes sleepy. Sleepy, but full of irresistible lust. She would crawl across the bed, sheets slipping off her smooth bare skin, and she would pull Myka, sweaty and breathless, on top of her, and then, they would both be late to the office. In fact, the reason Myka ran so early in the morning was because of just that. Their passionate morning-sex-after-jogging forced her to get up earlier, because despite how much she enjoyed the body-wracking orgasms and the thrill of Helena's moans, she refused to be consistently late for work. It was not in her nature.

Now, her early starts were a force of habit, not a necessity, and she made no effort to be quite as she returned. She was peeling her clothes off as she made her way through the bedroom, throwing them into the laundry basket in an accurate curve. Helena was curled on her side, eyes shut. Myka paused as she often did to watch her sleeping wife. _It's my fault. Our failing marriage is my fault. We had a good thing, and I ruined it. _Myka had long ago directed the blame at herself. Their marriage had stalled. Of course they talked, but it was about what was for dinner, whose turn it was to wash the dishes, who would pick up the shopping. There was a kiss on the cheek here and there, a card on their birthdays, a 'romantic' dinner every now and then. They went about their married lives on auto pilot, the perfect cover. Except that it wasn't a cover. It was supposed to be real.

_"Why have you come back here today?" The therapist asked._

_Myka fidgeted in the chair, uncomfortable in every sense of the word. She bit her lip as the therapist waited._

_"I love her, really I do." _

_"Mrs Bering-Wells, you do not need to convince me of your devotion to your wife," the therapist said in a gentle tone. "You just need to tell me why you felt you should return alone. Last week you seemed quite dismissive of our session. Don't worry," the therapist laughed as Myka looked away, guilty. "It's a common reaction when it comes to therapy. So, tell me, what has changed your mind?"_

_Myka did not answer for a while. She sat, brow furrowed, twisting a strand of her curly hair around her index finger. When she spoke, it was disjointed and halting. "It was nothing really, just a silly conversation"_

_The therapist looked on encouragingly. "Go on,"_

_"Helena came back from work last night, and I asked her how her day had been. 'So-so'. That's what she said. That's _all _she said. And I, well I just feel like there is this huge gap, you know? This huge space between us and it just keeps filling up with all the things we don't say to each other. What is that called?"_

_"Marriage."_

_Myka looked down at the gold ring on her finger, she turned it around in a full circle._

_"What are you not saying to each other?"_

Everything. _Myka thought. "Um, well. You know, everyone has their secrets."_

_"Do you think Helena is keeping secrets as well? Or is this a problem you need to address yourself? Sharing is a form of trust, Mrs Bering-Wells."_

_"Just Myka, please. My surname can be a quite a mouthful."_

_"Myka, then. You have not answered the question."_

_Myka looked away from the therapist's questioning gaze. She knew Helena did not 'share' either, in that way they were alike. "I don't know. Perhaps we are both just not saying things. It's not like I am lying to her," she tried to justify her behaviour. "Just I don't feel like I can share every detail of my life."_

_"I'm sure she would not judge you or betray your trust. What is stopping you from sharing?"_

The fact thatI am a highly trained contract killer leading a dangerous double life?_ "I have control issues." Myka settled with._

_The therapist nodded. "Would you say that control was a large part of your personality?"_

_"Yes, maybe. I like order and logic. I think things through, I don't make rash decisions. Everything has to be under control, or else where would we be?" Myka trailed off, shrugging. _

_"You accepted Helena's proposal after 6 weeks."_

_Myka took a breath. "Yes."_

_"Isn't that a rash decision? 6 weeks is not a long time to think things through."_

_"It was different back then."_

_"Different how?"_

_"Helena…" Myka murmured, a slight smile on her lips. "She, well, _we_ were more relaxed, everything was new. I was swept off my feet by this mysterious stranger. An intelligent, beautiful stranger. I felt like I could trust her with the world."_

_"So what has changed?"_

The therapist's words echoed through Myka's head as she looked at Helena. She was beautiful_,_ devastatingly so, as she slept. Myka used to spend hours just watching her wife breathing. She would marvel at the curves of Helena's body, as she always slept on her side. She would run her fingers from her jaw to Helena's slightly parted lips. Helena was the sole definition of grace. _She was graceful still, and not to mention a thousand times less annoying when she was unconscious_. Myka mused.

Then her heart skipped a beat and she snapped out of her daze, because Helena had opened her eyes, and was looking straight back at her. The two of them stared at each other in silence, Myka unable read the expression on Helena's face.

"Hey," she said softly, looking down and away, blushing at being caught.

"Hey yourself." Helena replied, her voice unusually quiet and earnest.

Myka opened her mouth, as if to say something more, only to come up blank. Eventually she escaped Helena's curious eyes, turned on her heal and walked hastily into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. With her back against the cool frosted glass she tried to calm her racing heart. _All these years. She says two words to you, and you still fall to pieces. _

With a shake of her head, she pushed herself upright, pulled off the last of her clothes and flicked on the shower. _Time to drown it all out. _

* * *

Helena lay still in the bed, her eyes had not left the shadow of Myka's toned back pressed against the bathroom door. She could see the steadying rise and fall of her shoulders, her palms flat against the cold surface. '_Hey yourself'. What on earth was that? _She groaned inwardly. The sight of Myka standing in a sports bra, sweat gleaming off her shoulders, red cheeks, and hair pulled back exposing the exquisite shape of her face had caused Helena's stomach to clench in the most delightful manner. Apparently that was not the only organ affected. _'Hey yourself'. What had possessed her to reply with such a choice of words? More importantly, why had she opened her eyes?_ For a while now, Helena had laid impassive when her wife returned from her morning run. Her keen ears would pick up the sound of Myka coming up the gravel drive, the key in the lock, the sound the water faucet, the sound of footfall on the stairs. She would lie still pretending to sleep until Myka hit the shower, so why today had she decided to watch? Helena shook herself. _What did it matter? Another meaningless exchange. _She glanced over at the clock on the bedside table, although she really didn't need to. Myka always returned at 06:03 on the dot. Helena was married to possibly the most meticulous woman on the planet. She sighed, fully awake now, and not fancying being in the room when Myka re-emerged, dripping wet and smelling of her favourite body lotion. _No, that would definitely not do_. Helena rolled out of bed, her feet curling as they hit the cold wooden floor. _Breakfast. _

The house was its usual grey and quiet self. Helena came down the stairs, her eyes lingering on the curtains in the dining room. She recalled the conversation they'd had at the weekend.

_"I got new curtains." Myka had said as Helena sifted through the post tray in the hall._

_Helena looked up. The new curtains in question were a mottled grey colour. Hideous. _

_"Hmm." She replied._

_"There was a struggle getting the material," Myka continued, her arms folded across her chest as she assessed her handy work. "This man had his hands on it, but, I won." _

_Helena looked at her wife. "Of course you did." _

_"They have flecks of green, so we are going to have to reupholster the sofas and definitely get a new rug to match."_

_Helena raised an eyebrow. "Yes, or we could keep the old ones, and we wouldn't have to change a single thing." _

_Myka looked from the curtains to her wife, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. "We talked about this."_

_"Yes, I remember." Helena stood in the doorway, meeting her wife's icy stare.. "I remember saying we'd wait."_

_Myka let out a heavy sigh, her hands moved to her hips. "If you don't like them, I can take them back." It was a challenge._

_Helena smirked. "Okay, I don't like them."_

_Myka's gaze hardened. "You'll get used to them."_

Helena flicked on the warm yellow kitchen lights and set the kettle to boil. She turned on the television. It was already on the news channel, they rarely watched anything else. _How could the woman who had been painstakingly stubborn and fastidious over their dining room curtains, be the same wild, unrestricted woman who returned from a run each morning? _Breathless, unbound, exhilarated Myka was the person she missed. _Is that why I opened my eyes today? _She exhaled slowly, mind turning to the therapy session she had attended alone.

_"So, part 2. Here we are, only this time you're by yourself. Why did you come back?"_

_Helena turned her attention to the therapist. "I don't know." She did not like needing help. "Let me clarify, I love my wife." The therapist looked as though he was going to say something, apparently Helena did not know that her wife had been there but hours before, saying exactly the same thing._

_Helena continued before he could. "I want her to be happy. I want good things for her. But there are times when…"Helena shook her head, settling her shoulders back in the chair. "Things always have to go her way."_

_"What is wrong with her way?"_

_"Oh, nothing really."_

_"Nothing? Then what's the problem?"_

_Helena didn't answer, instead she looked out of the window, her fingers tracing along her collar bone._

_"Mrs Bering-Wells?"_

_"Helena, please." The therapist smiled at that comment._

_"Helena, I cannot help the two of you if you do not talk to me."_

_Helena faced the man before her. "There is no room for change."_

_"What would you change about your relationship?"_

_The smile on Helena's face revealed more than her words did. "It used to be easy,"_

_"In what way?" The therapist prompted. He was used to having to dig for answers, he could be patient._

_"When we first met, it was her that made the move." Helena remembered. "She was easier then, easier to please. Just simple things like a flower on a breakfast tray, or a squeeze of hands to make her know I was there." Helena cursed at her romanticism. "Colombia was simple. Married life is not quite so."_

_The therapist laughed. "Definitely not."_

_"And now? I sometimes I want to throttle her." Helena gritted her teeth. "Things have to be exactly right. I could recite our life routine and act it out for you. It all goes according to plan, with no room for error."_

_"Couples often miss the spontaneity and novelty of the early stages of their relationship"_

_"So how do you suggest we get that back, doctor?"_

_"Do you think you know your wife, Helena?"_

_Helena frowned, momentarily stumped by the change in conversational direction. _

_"Yes." Helena replied. Then, "Well, no actually."_

_"Then maybe it is not a case of 'getting that back' as you said, but a case of finding it in the first place."_

Helena was barely listening to the news reports. She didn't realise how long she had been sitting there thinking until she heard Myka coming down the stairs. _06:45. _

Her wife walked in, dressed in a tight fitting shirt and blazer. Her curls were still damp from the shower and she smelt like raspberries and vanilla. It made Helena's head dizzy. She gave Myka a cautious smile, before taking her mug and moving over to the kettle. She had completely forgotten about making her drink.

Helena found herself hyper-aware of her wife as they went about their routines. The usual silence was comforting, but somehow it seemed intensified, after the morning's encounter. By half 7 they were both ready, in the hallway putting on their coats. Myka pushed her sunglasses on, her green eyes instantly hidden behind dark lenses. Helena wrapped a scarf around her neck, lifted her keys from the tray, before opening the door. Then, Myka gave a polite smile, and walked through, leaving Helena to shut and lock the house behind them. _Routine. Normalcy. _Helena took measured breaths, she needed to get her mind off Myka. _Let's hope they have a job lined up at work. _


	6. Helena

**A/N – More gushing thank yous from me, nice to know people are reading/appreciating this fic. So, chapter 6. I've had debates about Mrs F. and Artie. If anyone is familiar with the film plot, you'll hopefully understand how the characterisation of the 'big bosses' had to change slightly, compared to the Artie and Mrs F. in the WH13 universe. If you haven't seen the film – it will all make sense eventually, I just wanted to give a heads up as to why they may appear to act out of character in the coming chapters.**

**Humdinger – I have written a reply to your comment, it's at the bottom because I got carried away too…**

**Anyway, enjoy part 6. It's all about Helena…**

**_Frederic Offices, 8.14am._**

Helena was pacing. The office was empty, as it usually was at this time in the morning. The rest of her agents didn't arrive until 9am. Which meant Helena could think. Think about Myka. _No. You don't want to think about her. You want to think about anything but your wife._

"Mrs Bering-Wells?"

Helena jumped, hand instinctively reaching for her gun. "Mrs Frederic, you caught me by surprise." _Like you always do. _Helena frowned. It was unusual to see her boss in the flesh, which was the first give away. Mrs F. usually contacted the team electronically, and orders usually came via Claudia, but then, today was going any way but the usual way. "Do you have a mark for me?"

"Yes, I do. But that is not why I am here."

"No?"

"No."

"Alright then." There was an uncomfortable silence, on Helena's end at least, whilst both women surveyed each other.

"Are you well, Helena?" Helena cringed. There was the second give away. Other than Myka, people rarely used her Christian name. _Where is this going?_

"I am perfectly content, Mrs Frederic." She replied, slender hands smoothing down her shirt.

"You are agitated."

Helena sighed, coming to the conclusion that there wasn't any reason in denying it. Mrs F. had her way of knowing things, a 6th sense, according to Miss Donovan.

"Just a personal ah... predicament." She settled with, although predicament didn't even begin to cover the turmoil currently occupying her brain. "Nothing new. It will not affect ability to complete the job."

Mrs Frederic did not say anything, instead she stood altogether still, regarding the woman in front of her with a careful stare.

"You have nothing to worry about, Mrs Frederic, I can assure you." Helena allowed her persuasive, confident tone to creep back into her voice. Mrs Frederic was a shrewd, calculating woman, and Helena did not want to imagine her fate it appeared that she were personally compromised.

"Very well." Mrs Frederic eventually let out.

Helena almost sighed in relief, holding back at the last second. She looked out of the window at the cityscape to avoid Mrs Frederic's intense eyes.

"But Agent Bering-Wells? Do keep the collateral damage of your missions to a minimum. We must remain discreet if we are to remain competitive. I'm sure I do not need to remind you that we are not the only company that deals withunwanted characters."

Helena swallowed, and turned to agree with her boss, only to find an empty spot where she was standing a moment before.

"The 6th sense and now teleporting abilities," she breathed aloud, shaking her head. _Things may have just gotten more complicated._

* * *

"Who is he?" Helena was impatient. She was itching to get her hands on a gun, a knife. _Somebody's neck._

"Whoah, now." Claudia leant back away from Helena, her harsh tone almost like a physical blow. "What's got you all riled up?

_I'm in love with my wife, but at the same time, I'm not. I know her, but at the same time I don't. She's a familiar stranger, and I can only imagine that I am a familiar stranger to her, too. Oh, and I have a feeling Mrs F. knows absolutely everything in that uncanny way of hers. _ Helena's train of thoughts went round in circles.

"Never you mind, H.G, I have a bad man for you to kill."

_Excellent._

"Tobias Alessi. Italian arms dealer. He's in town. Mrs F wants this done quick and quiet, he's supposed to be moving a shipment this evening."

"Not if I get to him first."

"Exactly."

"What's my in?"

"Well, Toby here loves, loves, _loves _female company, of the, uh, _dominating_ kind."

"I dread to think how you found this out, Miss Donovan."

"Oh the things I do for my job," Claudia sighed.

"Give me the specs."

"Already forwarded to your phone." Claudia replied, as Helena headed for the door. She definitely was not hanging about. "Helena?"

Helena winced. _Twice in one day. _Claudia only used that name was when she wanted to get touchy-feely. "Yes?"

"Are you sure you're okay? I mean, I know things haven't been great, y'know personally,"

"And how would you know that?"

"I may or may not have hacked your schedule and seen the therapy sessions you've booked, which of course I can _totally _un-see, and I can un-see them super-duper fast because boy, you do not look happy with me."

Helena's scowl deepened. She wasn't really angry, but it was easier to be angry than it was to admit what she was actually feeling. And that was upset. _Upset about Myka._

"It's just we usually run over a few more details before you go all ninja on your mark's ass, if you know what I mean?" Claudia thought it best to return the conversation to work, as Helena did not offer anything up. "Like how are you going to take this guy out?"

"Miss Donovan," Helena returned Claudia's personal intrusion with a professional smile. "I assure you, my method is none of your concern. I have a plan."

"No you don't." The accusation, or rather, statement came from Steve Jinks, who had just walked into their office.

"Perfect timing Jinksy!" Claudia spun her chair around to greet her friend.

The noise Helena made next could only be described as a growl. _Who cares about collateral damage? _"I am going to improvise. I fancy getting my hands dirty." Then Helena was gone, out the door before Claudia could get another word in.

"This is not going to end well." Claudia groaned. The times when H.G wanted to improvise usually ended in an elaborate performance and Claudia always had to deal with the public fall out. Whatever or _whoever_ Helena was worked up over, she needed to get over it quick.

"Maybe I shouldn't have said anything," Steve said, worry on his face.

"Nah, whatever Helena has planned, or more appropriately _doesn't _have planned, she's been careering towards it at full speed all day. She was a bomb waiting to go off, and Jinksy my friend, you just provided the spark to light her fuse."

"Because that makes me feel a thousand times better, Claud."

"You're welcome. Now sit, Mrs F. has a case that requires your unprecedented interrogative skills."

* * *

Helena had left the office in a storm after lunch. She had been as patient as she could, spending the whole morning catching up on paperwork, waiting for Claudia to come back from her meeting. Apparently, she was not the only one Mrs F. had wanted to talk to in person. Now she sat in the back of her car, as her personal chauffeur, Charles, drove her around town. She relaxed slightly as she flicked through the files Claudia had sent to her, immersing herself in her next hit.

Mr Alessi was staying in a grande deluxe suite. _Of course. These thugs were never anything other than cliché. _She ran through the other details – the body guards and their training history, the layout of the suite. Slowly she allowed a loose plan to form in her mind. If all went smoothly, she would not engage anyone other than Tobias. _Lucky man._

The problem with this job was going to be the exit strategy. Access was easy enough, and with the help of Claudia, she had an appointment with Tobias at 6pm. However, she couldn't just waltz out, leaving his dead body in her wake, without expecting a reaction from his beefy acquaintances. As she pondered over the problem, her eyes fixed upon the blueprints showing a balcony jutting out from the main bedroom. _Hmm. _A small twinkle appeared in her eyes. She leant forward to talk to her driver.

"Charles, can you take me to our good friend Chaturanga?"

"Of course, Mrs Bering-Wells."

Helena had surprised herself. She had a plan.

* * *

Helena walked into the hotel lobby. She knew she was turning heads with her long bare legs, her coat tight against her waist, her make-up bold and alluring. _All part of the image._ Her heels tapped against the tiled floor, she walked confidently, never once breaking her stride. Her attention was focused on a man leaning against the counter, his eyes had not yet reached her face. She gave him a once over, bottling the desire to rip his eyeballs out for his sleazy staring, and instead eyeing his gun, his clothing, his posture. This was the man who was to escort her up to Mr Alessi. He had henchman written all over him.

She did not introduce herself, instead she fixed a seductive smile on her face, and beckoned with one finger. The man smiled, and stepped in time with her as she continued towards the elevators. Once inside, the man slid his key card against the panel and the lift began its ascent. Helena waited, and sure enough they by the 6th floor, her escort made his move. As his hands reached out to grope her chest, she turned suddenly and slammed him against the wall, twisting his arm at an awkward angle behind his back. The man gargled in surprise.

"I am not yours to touch," Helena hissed, her face mere inches from his. "I belong to your boss." _You belong to Myka. _Her brain instantly thought. Helena growled in frustration. "If you lay another finger on me, I will shove both of my heels so far up your vile, repugnant ass that you'll be singing soprano for weeks, do you understand?"

The man didn't answer, so Helena lifted his arm higher up his spine. He cried out in pain.

"I asked you a question."

"Yes," the man gasped out.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Mistress." He groaned, and Helena released his arm and spun him about.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" She asked, using one finger to trail down the side of his face. _Grotesque creature. _Whatever the man was about to respond with was not voiced, because the elevator came to a stop, the doors opened and Helena stepped out into the suite, turning to smirk at the incapacitated fool behind her. Then she walked into the open lounge area, steeling herself and pushing any thoughts about her wife aside.

She was greeted by 5 men, spread out on the expensive sofas. _Just as expected._ They all looked at her with the same interest. The one closest to her got up and searched her, none to gently, before giving a curt nod. He gestured towards the bedroom, and Helena gave him a smile. "Do not disturb us," she said in a low, sultry voice. Then she opened the door and locked it shut behind her.

The bedroom was empty, her mark was apparently in the bathroom, which gave Helena some time to assess her surroundings. The balcony door was already open. _Brilliant._

Then her she turned back to the bathroom door, which opened to reveal Tobias Alessi. He was a tall tanned man, wearing boxers, a dressing gown and socks. Helena kept her personal distaste hidden, instead she opened her mouth and ran her tongue across her upper lip. That seemed to do it, and Tobias looked at Helena expectantly. She took a step forward, slowly unbuttoning her coat. She watched Tobias smile appreciatively as she revealed her attire. Helena had found the skimpiest, sexiest leather outfit she could, and to finish the look, a riding crop at her hip. Tobias moved across the room as Helena pulled her hair free, allowing it to cascade down to her shoulders. He moved as though a man possessed. He wanted to touch.

Helena stopped him, though, with the end of her whip. "Ah ah, no you don't." She murmured, locking her eyes with his. "Kneel."

The man obeyed instantly. _Too easy._

"Now Tobias, you can take off your dressing gown. We won't be needing that, will we?"

"No," the man whispered, shrugging off the material almost frantically.

Helena allowed the end of the whip to trail over the man's bare shoulders. She saw him tense in response.

"Hands behind your back," she bent over and breathed in his ear. Tobias did as he was told. _I could tell him to kill himself and he'd probably do it. _Helena rolled her eyes, taking her handcuffs and securing Tobias' wrists.

"Tell me Tobias, have you been a bad boy?" She watched, and had to stifle a laugh as her dangerous mark knelt before her, hands cuffed, nodding with desperate enthusiasm.

"Yes," Tobias tried to turn his head to look at Helena. She pushed his cheek back with her whip. _Time's up._

"Have you been a bad boy, selling big bad guns to nasty people?"

Tobias flinched in confusion and made a noise like a startled pig, a cry forming on his lips, but before he could scream for help, Helena had one hand over his mouth, another locked against his jaw. In one swift movement, she twisted his neck. There was a sickening crack, and then Tobias Alessi slumped sideways on the floor, dead.

Helena moved quickly, pulling her coat on as one of the guards came and knocked on the bedroom door. They may have been thugs, but they were well accustomed to the sound of a body hitting the deck.

"Mr Alessi? Mr Alessi?"

Helena ignored the sounds of the door handle being tried. Instead, grabbing her handbag and walking towards the balcony.

"Shoot the door!"

Helena concentrated on her task, she took one handle of her purse and hooked it against the metal railings on the balcony. Then as the sound of wood splintering reached her ears, Helena swung her legs over the side of the rails, tightened her grip on the second handle, and stepped off the top of the building.

* * *

Helena reached ground level in 43 seconds. She bent her knees upon hitting the pavement outside the hotel lobby. There were mild cries in shock, as this dark haired beauty appeared from nowhere, but without a second thought, Helena release the her handbag, and slid into her personal car, parked but an arm's length away. Charles pulled out and joined the stream of traffic, as Helena allowed herself to breath, a giddy smile taking over her features. She pulled out her phone.

"It's done." Helena said, leaning back against the plush seat of her chauffeur car that was taking her home. _Home. It was going to be an interesting evening._

"Sweet." Claudia was saying. "And you even did it without drawing _too_ much attention to yourself, although I did just have to intercept a rather frantic phone call to NYPD claiming that they had seen a woman step off the roof of a building. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"You know I would never do anything so dangerous, Claudia." Helena allowed herself to smirk.

"Really H.G? Because among other things, I'm having to eradicate tweets and statuses about a mysterious Spiderwoman dressed in black leather descending from the heavens."

"Miss Donovan, I'm sure you are exaggerating. Besides, that is your job, is it not? To remove all electronic evidence of my existence." Claudia didn't know whether to be happy or not that Helena's playful nature had returned. Killing a man had certainly had improved her mood. "I thought you would approve of my exit strategy. The handbag _unwound_, Miss Donovan, and it is made of this delightful material that manages to both support my body weight and look wonderfully fashionable at the same time, if I do say so myself." Helena was pleased. She looked forward to reporting back to Chaturanga about the success of their gadget.

"H.G, you jumped off a building." Claudia said, exasperated. Sometimes, however, she forgot who she was talking to.

"Yes, yes, I know. But if that's all you are concerned about darling, we can discuss this at a later date. I am rather tired and I am quite looking forward to having a bath. I shall speak to you tomorrow."

"Uh H.G, haven't you forgotten something?"

Helena frowned. _No. I killed the man, job done._

"Your neighbour's get together?" Claudia prompted. "You know, the one Myka agreed to go to even though you didn't want to? You spent most of last week complaining about having to find a dress suitable for such a, and I quote, "unnecessary gathering of suburban Neanderthals"."

Helena groaned, she could hear Claudia snorting down the phone.

"Don't worry, luck for you, I did hack your schedule. Your dress is in the car."

Helena had noticed the clothes cover hanging in the back but hadn't given it much thought. Now she sighed. "It appears I owe you a thank you, Miss Donovan."

"Forget it H.G, just don't be late, party starts in 15." With that, the line went dead.

Helena sat upright, ran a hand though her hair before tapping on the glass to talk to her driver.

"Change of plans, Charles, we have a social gathering to attend."

* * *

Irene Frederic had been sat in the same position behind her desk for an hour now. Her assistant had gone home hours ago, but Mrs Frederic was staying late. She toyed with her glasses chain in an uncharacteristic gesture of uncertainty. In her mind, she was running through hundreds of scenarios, outcomes, possibilities, good and bad. No matter what angle she came at it though, she reached the same conclusion over and over. Mrs & Mrs Bering-Wells made quite a pair. _A dangerous pair_.

It was time to make a phone call.

* * *

**Humdinger: (having a full on conversation here, sorry I had to push your reply to the bottom!) I'm glad the dialog isn't too forced, it's one of the hardest bits to do – making it natural, and also keeping it to character, so it's good to know I haven't screwed it up too much. I'm sure yours was fine too! I'd love to read whatever stuff you have written! Next, yep, I'm going to keep expanding on the ideas about the problems with their marriage. I completely agree with your idea about focusing on kids, and being lost when they are gone. I dare say that's what has happened with my parents. Obviously Bering & Wells don't have children in this fic, but hopefully it's clear that instead it is their professional lives that have taken a toll on their personal ones. As for the stories I'm writing, there is this one, the death one, and yep some others that are in the works. One is an AU for B&W - completely my own stuff, so it's taking longer because I actually have to write a plot myself (ha ha), one is a fic for Rookie Blue, and the last one is a B&W fic but it's on a different profile, I'll link it up at some point. Anyway, here's a massive thanks to you for writing! Really appreciate it (:**


	7. Bonus snipit (originally a one-shot)

**A/N- So I was watching Mr & Mrs Smith and when it occurred to me how great the car chase scene is for a bickering couple and of course my mind went straight to Bering & Wells…**

**This is a one-shot, although, I kind of like the idea of a whole thing based on the two of them being married but estranged, and then passionately falling back in love, with various guns and explosions involved, of course. Hey ho, we'll see.**

**Update – I'm doing the whole thing, but I'll leave this up anyway! Enjoy!**

"We've got company." Helena said, glancing in the mirror to see 4 unmarked sedans pushing in behind them.

"Shit," Myka swore. She undid her seatbelt and began climbing over into the back. Pulling down the seats, she loaded her gun and took aim out of the smashed rear window just as the minivan swerved.

Helena heard a yelp, and a crash as Myka lost her balance.

"Could you just hold it steady?" Myka shouted.

"It's called evasive driving, sweetheart," Helena smirked at the angry noises coming from behind her, and she moved into the next lane without much thought to the smoothness of the manoeuvre.

"Just hold it still!" Myka yelled, as Helena once again took a rather liberal interpretation of the word 'steady'. She turned the wheel suddenly, slamming the car beside them into the central barrier and smiling smugly as it spun out of control.

"They'll catch us if I hold still," Helena shouted back. "Besides, it's not my fault. How do people drive these things anyway? The handling is simply awful."

Myka growled though her teeth, and pulled herself upright.

"Let me drive," she said in Helena's ear.

"It's fine, I've got this," Helena replied. Eyes checking the wing mirrors for the attackers.

"You have not. Besides, I thought you were a better shot than me?" Myka baited.

This time Helena growled. "Fine."

Quickly, they changed positions. Myka settling in behind the wheel as they shot down the highway, bullets shattering the remaining glass in their borrowed minivan.

Helena yanked the sliding side door open and leant out, machine gun first. She let rip a few rounds at the windscreen of the closest car.

"They're bullet proof," Myka shouted. There was no response from her wife.

Eventually Helena swung back inside the vehicle following a volley of return shots. "They're bullet proof," she informed Myka, who let out a breath and rolled her eyes.

Helena ditched the machine gun in favour of her hand gun. Steadying her line, she shot at the men who were leaning out of the windows of their own car. Then, emptying a clip and she turned back to reload.

"You know," she began, looking up for a second to gauge her wife's temperament. "I should probably tell you, I'm British."

Helena could not have predicted the response.

Myka's eyes went wide. She slammed on the breaks in shock and the pursuit car behind them crashed into their rear.

Helena was thrown forwards. "Are you crazy? What's wrong with you?"

"_You're_ what's wrong with me!" Myka yelled, stamping on the pedal to pull away again. "You're _British_? This whole time I just thought you used fancy words and English phrases to be smart, and it turns out you're actually _British?!_"

"Darling, I think you are over reacting a little," Helena replied, allowing her natural accent to take over.

"Oh my God." Myka breathed. _That accent._"Say something else,"

"You want me to say something?" Helena asked, confused and suddenly wary of her wife.

"Yes, anything. Just with that accent." Myka demanded.

Helena smirked and leant forward until she was millimetres from Myka's ear. "I find the taste of your lips so incredibly intoxicating," she murmured, lacing as much charm and lust into her accent as she could.

Myka shuddered as the voice washed over her, feeling a sudden desire to have Helena there and then. "I have been missing out on this for 6 years," was all she could manage to reply.

"5 or 6, darling." Helena chuckled, leaving Myka to steady her noticeably erratic breathing.

Helena meanwhile turned her attention back to the car currently lodged to the back of the minivan. Picking up her gun she calmly leant out the side door and aimed at the tires. The bullets met their mark, and the driver lost control as the front tires blew.

"2 left," she said, switching to the other side of the car.

"Uh, Helena?" Myka said, looking in the rear view mirror at her wife.

"I'm a little busy, love," replied Helena, as bullets came their way again.

"Okay, but I need to tell you something, too."

"Can it wait just a second?" Helena shouted back.

"Well, no." Myka took a deep breath. "See, I should probably tell you, I was married once before. His name was Sam," Myka was rushing now. "We were young, really young, and in the end it just didn't work out,"

Helena's eyebrows shot skyward. "You were _married_?!"

Whatever Helena said next was lost in the sound of one of the cars coming alongside them. With a yell of frustration, Helena grabbed a golf club from the back seat, leant out the side door, and clobbered the man aiming at her. Then, she notice a grenade tucked in his belt. Pulling the pin, she scrambled backwards into the van.

"Go! Go! Go!" She shouted, and Myka floored the accelerator.

They were just clear when the car exploded in a ball of orange flames, taking with it some unfortunate men. They drove along in silence for a few seconds.

"What's his surname and social security number?" Helena asked, all of a sudden feeling overwhelmingly possessive.

"No! You're not going to kill him!" Myka exclaimed.

"But you've been _married!_" Helena said, her head still reeling from the revelation.

"I think you're being a bit hypocritical. It's not like you're some beacon of truth." Myka stabbed back, eyes flickering in the mirror at the last car that was gaining on them.

"You know what, let's just not talk about it." Helena grunted, levelling her gun at the final car.

Myka checked the mirror again. "Have you got it?"

"I've got it,"

"Any time now," Myka shouted, as they neared the overpass.

"I've got it," came the increasingly exasperated reply.

Myka looked back, huffed in annoyance and slammed on the brakes for the second time that day. Pulling the steering wheel, the van spun around 45 degrees. She raised her gun and shot twice out of the front window, ripping the tires of the oncoming car which flipped up and over the central barrier. Then she yanked on the wheel again, and the minivan spun back forward.

Helena picked herself up off the floor and climbed back up front. She looked at her wife, and couldn't help but smirk at the self-satisfied smile on Myka's face.

"You know, we've got a lot of catching up to do if you're to become the one person who knows me better than anyone else," Helena said softly, taking one of Myka's hands and placing a kiss on her knuckles.

Myka laughed and squeezed her wife's hand. "I can't wait."

**THERE YOU GO, I'M SORRY NOT SORRY.**


End file.
